


Through An Hourglass [Running out of Sand]

by BridgeToTheSky



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Guest Appearances From Other Characters, Hurt/Comfort, Perhaps happy ending??, Redemption, Romance, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/BridgeToTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nami (just Nami) has aspirations for the future that involve the search for certain, very powerful scrolls. But those are put on hold when she is given the mission to become the Kazekage's personal bodyguard. But what happens when feelings less platonic become involved? </p><p>And what happens when Nami is given an offer that makes her reconsider her conversion to the side of good? And no longer abandoning her comrades?</p><p>(Takes place after the Akatsuki's capturing of Gaara and the eradication of Shukaku from his body!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: A Decline, An Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so, so sorry about the double-spacing. I can't fix it! And I'm too tired to try to do anything about it!

“Good morning, nii-san~”

 

Naruto Uzumaki narrowed his eyes at the blond — no, no, not _him,_ the rather other, sneaky, slightly scary one smiling lazily at him — and crossed the room, eyes glued to her, and sat himself down across from her.

 

Two, freshly-made bowls of ramen sat before the two of them.

 

“Well?” said Nami, tilting a eyebrow at him. “Go ahead and eat … I don’t want it to get cold.”

 

It had been like this ever since Naruto had opened up his apartment — and coincidentally his world — up to her and told her that whatever was his, was now hers, as well.

 

That very night, three years ago, Nami had sat at the table with him and discovered that he, soon-to-be Hokage Naruto Uzumaki … didn’t eat vegetables.

 

“What?” she said, amazed at the absurdity of it all. “So you eat nothing but ramen?” Nami shrugged then. “Not that I mind — I can eat anything forever; I don’t get tired of any type of food. But you? How are you even a ninja if you don’t eat well?”

 

“I find ways around it,” Naruto replied, an undeniably boyish shrug attached to his statement.

 

Nami had stared at him, intently, as he dug into his bowl of ramen, slurping away, completely unaware of the horror he had brought on himself and any future incarnation of Naruto Uzumaki for quite some time.

 

And so had begun the tradition: Nami got Naruto to eat his vegetables. Whether he knew it or not.

 

Naruto finally looked down at his bowl, steam rising from the cooked noodles. He eyed the simple glass of water on the side, waiting to see some sign of tampering.

 

Nami reached for her soda and chugged it, looking off into space, seemingly oblivious to Naruto’s plight.

 

But Naruto knew better by now; there was very little Nami did not notice.

 

Truthfully, he should have given up fighting her. True, the first time she actually tried to physically do it — force feed him the stuff — he had bested her. A boy of little experience in the ways of ninja but aspired to more was better than a girl from the streets who was tough but had no proper skill.

 

But after that …

 

Nami was a strategist, and therefore sneakiness was already a skill she acquired from a startlingly young age, and one Naruto hadn’t. Weeks of not tasting anything strange or undeniably green had allowed him to trust her again … but the sudden bursts of energy, more balanced moods, and stronger fingernails began to speak for itself. Nami was getting her way, and it took him weeks before he noticed that that his improved health wasn’t just the result of amazingly amazing training sessions and positive attitude.

 

He picked up his chopsticks in the present, and dipped them in to catch a series of hot, jumbled-up noodles.

 

“If you’ve done anything, I _swear_ , I’ll —”

 

“Oh, come on, _nii_ -san!” Nami had begun calling him that ages ago, as a joke, but soon it became no such thing, and the honorific began to fly out of the blond’s mouth without much thought.

 

He was her _nii_ -san, and that was the end of it.

 

“Do you really think I’m still doing that? After all this time?” Nami said, and gave out a “psh”, and waved him off. “Please. I gave that up a long time ago. Eat how you want; this is yours house, after all.”

 

Naruto clutched his chopsticks harder. “I would if I knew for one-hundred percent sure you weren’t just saying that for me to let my guard down and poison me.”

 

“Oh,” Nami said, dipping her chopsticks in her meal and stuffing them in her mouth, “so now I’m _poisoning_ you by giving you vegetables? —”

 

“Aha!”

 

Naruto rose so quickly his chair collapsed behind him. He pointed at her accusingly as she nonchalantly dove into her bowl.

 

“I didn’t hear a past tense in that sentence! That’s very suspicious of you, _imouto_.”

 

Nami was soon to respond, but she was cut short by a knock on the door.

 

“Oi!” Naruto shouted, annoyed. “Who is it?”

 

Nami recognized the voice behind the front door, and rose, her stomach suddenly turning into a container for her nerves. Slow. Slightly deep. Infinitely bored in every aspect of life besides battle, and sometimes even that.

 

Shikamaru.

 

“Come in, it’s open,” Naruto said.

 

Nami shot him a reproachful glance he didn’t notice. It shouldn’t be, she thought.

 

The door opened and Shikamaru came in, scratching the back of his head.

 

“Shikamaru,” Nami said, approaching him, “what’s wrong?”

 

“Yeah, Nami …” Shikamaru said, holding the rest of his sentence for ransom.

 

Naruto looked from his sister to her superior, waiting for Shikamaru to continue.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Nami narrowed her eyes at this; when did something good ever follow a sentence like that?

 

***

 

“I decline.”

 

“Gaara, _please_ ,” Temari pleaded, she held her hands together and smiled in her most do-it-for-your-big-sister fashion. “This is for _you_. It would make us, and the village, a lot happier if we knew that —”

 

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Gaara interrupted. He reached for his pen and began to write again.

 

Temari pouted; this was not going as expected.

 

Though, to some extent, Temari knew Gaara would initially refuse their request for him to be watched by a personal bodyguard. The idea of being in the constant presence of someone, of having that someone breathing down his neck from day to night, wasn’t one Temari saw her younger sibling accepting with ease.

 

Temari took a breath; time to pull out her trump card.

 

“It’s Nami,” Temari announced. “Does that change anything?”

 

Gaara stopped writing.

 

“Nami?” Kankuro said fro behind her. “That blond that was with Naruto?”

 

The way Kankuro referred to the blond in question spoke volumes to Temari. Yes, the blond one. The one who was, also, in Temari’s eyes, one of Konoha’s finest shinobi, and also with an ability Temari thought would come in handy, considering the circumstances …

 

… or any circumstances, really, considering.

 

And it was a perfect time to mention that, this particular bodyguard, was not only a friend of Gaara’s friend, Naruto Uzumaki, but as close to him as a sibling.

 

And a rather pretty girl, but that was just her two cents thrown in.

 

But Kankuro had obviously not seen the best of the girl’s abilities.

 

… or just plain forgot her, which was also a legitimate possibility.

 

Temari studied Gaara; his hand lowered and he dropped his pen, his expression thoughtful, obviously weighing the option now that new information had been given.

 

It was seven seconds in, when Gaara reached for his pen again, and restarted his writing.

 

“We’ll see how it goes.”

 

That was as much as Temari needed.

 

***

 

 

“A … bodyguard?” Nami said, deep down hoping that by repeating it, it would make much more sense

 

…

 

Nope, still didn’t.

 

“Why?”

 

Shikamaru shrugged her question off. “Why ask me? All I know is that Temari requested you specifically for the job, and since Konoha and Suna are now allies … we just don’t wanna see rude, you know?”

 

Nami’s frown did not disappear. She knew Gaara, not particularly well … or not as well as Naruto knew him, but she had helped him when the Akatsuki had sought the jinjuriki that had previously dwindled inside him, and had succeeded. And she had enjoyed helping; it was almost like being a part of history itself. Something Nami hoped to do more of, in the future.

 

But now, suddenly, the name of the Kazekage didn’t sit well; from her ears to her stomach to the creeping sense of irritation that was crawling in her.

 

“Why would a Kazekage need a bodyguard?” Nami said, itching to argue on this. “What’s the point? If you’re a Kage at all, shouldn’t that …” Nami threw up a hand, “I don’t know, be the _opposite_ of needing a bodyguard?”

 

“The Kazekage is in a state of weakness right now,” Shikamaru continued.

 

 _The fourth Kazekage wasn’t weak, and Orochimaru still killed his ass,_ Nami thought. But she felt a twinge of satisfaction; she could tell that, somewhere within Shikamaru’s professional, chunin exterior was a piece of him that agreed with her. She felt even more pleased imagining him bringing up her exact same argument to whoever told him about this. “Do you have any idea what kind of message this sends to the other rivaling villages? It says, ‘here, we have a Kazekage who’s easy to snatch up, come and get him! Extra points if you can burn down his village in the process!’ and plus, have some compassion for him; having the Shukaku taken out took its tole on his body.”

 

Nami felt guilt drowse her like a bucket of water thrown. She had never stopped to consider that for Shikamaru to be here now, telling her of her new, possible mission, he had to be convinced it wasn’t dumb.

 

And it wasn’t.

 

“But why me?” Nami asked.

 

She heard Naruto snort. “Don’t pretend to not know. You know why they’d want you.”

 

Nami rolled her eyes; so much for trying to uphold modesty.

 

It was true, though. Even though Naruto had tried to ingrain some humility in her about her abilities — though he was being a complete hypocrite here, doing the exact opposite (Nami wanted to roll her eyes a second time; _brotherly figures_ ) — she had something that would come to be useful. And something rare. And something that Temari had witnessed with her own eyes, and most likely remembered. Scratch that: definitely remembered.

 

Nami lessened her physical defenses, and asked, “What do I have to do, exactly?”

 

Shikamaru nearly smirked. “Does this mean you’re saying yes?”

 

“It _means_ ,” Nami said, “what do I have to do, exactly?”

 

Shikamaru’s smirk remained. “It means you have to guard the Kazekage with your life, lest you make Konoha look like a bunch of weak fools. It means you have to be there when he calls, do whatever needs you to do and be whoever and whatever he needs you to be.”

 

Nami took a breath. “I accept.”

 

Shikamaru’s tone was nearly unbearably taunting the next time he spoke. “Why do you get all the _fun_ jobs?”

 

***

 

“This’ll be great for you!” Naruto said cheerily, once Shikamaru left. He seemed to have forgotten all of his previous suspicions about his ramen, now eating happily on as he tried to talk all at the same time. “You’ll get to go out, stretch your legs, and you’ll get to know Gaara more.”

 

“Yeah, eh …” Nami was lost for what to say. Even though Shikamaru told her what she would need to be willing to do, and she accepted, she was still … lost in the proposal itself. What was she needed for? _Really?_ The answer given to her still felt vague and explanatory at the same time. “I still don’t know, I might back —”

 

“Oh, get off it,” Naruto said, noodles hanging from his face, helpless as they were slurped into his mouth and swallowed with an audible gulp. “This is what you need. To go out into the world. I don’t see why you’re acting this way, anyway.”

 

Nami shifted uncomfortably; maybe that’s all it was — fear, apprehension. She had never been cut so loose before, and who knew just how long this job would be hers, how long she would need to be needed in Suna. Days? Weeks? Months? — gulp — _years?_

 

It wasn’t easy to tell just how long rivaling villages would see Suna as spineless and unprotected and rape-and pillage-worthy. How long would she be away from her precious Konoha? Her home, always, though she had seen, time and time again, its ugly underbelly?

 

“Plus,” Naruto said, looking up from his bowl. And Nami realized that, within her nerves and her excitement, was also sadness. She couldn’t leave her goofball adoptive brother, could she? “You and Gaara are going to be great friends! I know it!”


	2. 2: A Test of Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baki nodded hesitantly, and then straighted. “Very well. Nami of the Leaves, will be the Kazekage’s new guard.”
> 
> Nami hardly heard him as Gaara made eye contact with her, turquoise orbs following her own forest green ones.
> 
> It was … nice. To see him again.
> 
> Even nicer that he wanted her. Though Nami wasn't sure why.

Suna was immense. 

 

… and hot. 

 

But Nami understood; “Suna” -> “Hot.” Some things were meant to be obvious, even glaringly so. 

 

Sunagakure was cocooned by the rocks and mountains surrounding the desert. Upon seeing it, Nami imagined the kind of people living inside it. What were the Suna people like? Really? Nami felt guilty; she couldn’t get the picture of a rather esoteric society out of her head. 

 

How easy had it been for Orochimaru to to slither in and invade them, like the snake that he was?

 

Nami and Shikamaru arrived at the entrance, where the guards, upon seeing them, straightened themselves as though prepared to fight them off, but then relaxed upon seeing their headbands. Leaf; safe. For now, at least. 

 

They were ushered through, where Shikamaru finally divulged in the complexities of Nami’s mission. Finally. Ugh. 

 

At a special word, Nami had to spin around to meet his lazy eye. 

 

“There’s a test?” 

 

Shikamaru shrugged. “Well … yeah. There is. You don’t just let anybody become the Kazekage’s personal guard —” 

 

“Personal guard?” Nami repeated, crossing her arms tightly to her chest. “Personal? I’ll be working alone, then?” 

 

“No,” Shikamaru replied, feeling the animosity coming from the blond and attempting to back away from it. “You’ll be with Kankuro and Temari.”

 

Nami glared. 

 

“Look,” Shikamaru said, the distaste for simply talking already heard in his tone, “it seems like Temari was the one to convince the Suna council that this was even necessary — having you here — but they want to personally see you demonstrate what you can do before you’re really officially Gaara’s guard.” 

 

“ _ Oh, _ ” Nami said, pinching the crease between her eyebrows. Suna’s council; Nami was awash with sympathy for Gaara at that moment — just the mere thought of having a posse of old geezers watching and ready to criticize your every move at such a young age must be just dandy. 

 

And now she was part of it. Ugh. 

 

“Fine,” Nami said. “When does the test begin?” 

 

“At sundown,” came a new voice. 

 

Amongst the commotion of the villagers, the voice stuck out, and caused Nami to turn back around the way they were going. She smirked; Temari and Kankuro had found them, and they were coming closer. 

 

“Nice to see you again,” Temari said, smiling, she lent out her hand, which Nami shook. “Though you don’t seem too happy about it.” 

 

“You’re right,” Nami said. “I’m not, and I guess you’re the one I have to blame, huh?” 

 

“Ah,” Temari said, moving a hand at the back of her head. “Well …” 

 

Nami snorted as Shikamaru came forward. “I’m just dropping her off. She’s all yours now.” 

 

Temari nodded to him. “And what are you going to do?” 

 

“Go home,” Shikamaru yawned, already turning. “Hopefully get a game of Shogi in. This whole traveling thing is such a drag …” 

 

“Hmph,” Temari said, watching him go. “Guess he hasn’t changed any.” 

 

“He’s actually changed a lot,” Nami said, smiling as Shikamaru waved from behind, knowing that the wave was for her, and poofed away. “… but maybe ‘a lot’ is still not nearly enough.” 

 

“So,” Kankuro said. “Want us to show you your quarters?” 

 

“Sure.” Nami said calmly, her voice polite and easy, but inside, she could feel her abandonment issues jump-kick into drive. 

 

What was to become of her now? 

 

***

 

Nami’s potential personal guard quarters were actually right beside the Kazekage’s office, down the corridor from the office itself, it opened up into a small but welcoming room, guest room in its formality. A simple bed, pushed up against the wall. A stand (where she planned to put the picture of Naruto and herself that had been taken not too long ago, and she wasn’t embarrassed about that one bit), a small circular window, reminiscent of the ones that encased the Kazekage’s office, a closet, soft-lighted lamp, and a simple rug. 

 

It was … _homey._ Familiar. Not too unlike her bedroom back in Naruto’s apartment. Nami felt a warmth about it, and it made things increasingly less … scary; distant. 

 

“You can just drop your things on the bed,” said Temari, smiling as she leaned against the closed door. There was a confidence in her voice that suggested she knew Nami was ‘the one’ and there would be no more guard-searching involved. 

 

Nami did as suggested, and let the single bag she came with collapse on the green sheets. “So sundown you said, for the test? What exactly do I have to do?” 

 

“Nothing too complicated,” said Kankuro. 

 

Nami made a mind note to ask him why he wore all that face paint, as she knew that underneath it hid a truly handsome face. He shared a likeness to his father, the fourth kazekage … or maybe that was  why he went with the face paint. 

 

The thought was too serious for some reason, and Nami forced it away — 

 

“ … and that’s really it.” Kankuro finished. 

 

“Huh?” Nami blinked. “Sorry, could you tell me again?” 

 

“Scatterbrained, aren’t ‘cha?” Kankuro said, but he smiled regardless. “Just basic taijutsu — we gotta know you can move quickly should there be an hands-on assault! And ninjutsu, then some genjutsu, if you’re even equipped at all.” 

 

_ Genjutsu I’m less hansy with, but ninjutsu? Huh, saying I’m ‘equipped’ would be an understatement.  _

 

“Then for the first couple of days,” Kankuro said, “you’ll have to show some serious commitment to Gaara. You’re from a different village, no matter how allied we are, and we need to make sure you’ll be looking after him like he’s your own Kage.” 

 

“Okay, fine, I can do all those things,” Nami said, relaxing. She needed to learn how to do that more. “But where is he? Isn’t he supposed to be the star of all this commotion? Where is Gaara?” 

 

“He’s decided to wait until the test to see you,” Kankuro said. “Said he wanted to let you settle in before meeting you again.” 

 

_Or he’s just as unhappy about all this as I am,_ Nami thought. 

 

“We’ll let you unpack,” Temari said — more confidence, Nami almost wanted to smirk. “Then we can take you down to the dining room for some lunch, okay?” 

 

“Sounds fantastic,” Nami said, her mouth nearly watering at the thought of food; all she had eaten during the trip were a couple of apples and water from visited rivers that she and Shikamaru came across. 

 

As Nami unpacked her things, the sense of arrival made her think of things from her departure. Naruto had been all macho bravado, of course, holding back manly tears before falling apart all over his _imouto_ and murmuring about how proud of her he was. At this memory, Nami dug out the framed photo of her and Naruto, all shiny teeth and goofy grin, and set it on the stand as promised. 

 

Her teammates, Tenshi and Akito, had looked on with mocking grins. Tenshi, all wise and proper always, had smiled a big smile and adjusted her glasses. 

 

“Don’t mess up,” she had instructed. 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nami had replied, before enveloping Tenshi in a hug.

 

Akito, on the other hand … 

 

“Just don’t make them want to run you out with fire and pitchforks, okay?” he had said, hand smacked on Nami’s shoulder. 

 

With a sweat drop, Nami had told him just where to take his words, and they had shared a laugh before she left with Shikamaru, rivers of tears running down Naruto’s face.

 

Already, she missed them. Already, she wanted to bail. But she knew this was right for her. At least, for now. 

 

She would see how she felt if it took up months instead of weeks … 

 

Nami had other things on her mind to accomplish. 

 

***

 

“What does the Kazekage like to eat —?” 

 

“Does he like coffee or tea? Oh, I know he loves tea —!” 

 

“When can I go up and see him —?” 

 

“What does he smell like —?” 

 

Nami smiled, eyes closed, her eyebrow twitching at the scene before her; Temari was getting harassed by a group of relentless cooks and servant girls, all their questions surrounding the Kazekage. 

 

Nami had seen her come in, and immediately after a cloud of adolescent women — all looking eighteen to … oh god, were those …  _ wrinkles? _ — sliding into the scene to tackle her with inquiries. It all seemed rather …  planned, too. Militant in the way they lied in wait for pray —  _ Temari, _ to come in and perhaps deliver them from their curiosity. 

 

Nami watched as Kankuro slipped away and found a seat by Nami. 

 

“See why we have to protect him?” Kankuro teased, watching as his sister fended off a sea of girls. “Or else there would be no stopping them.” 

 

“Is it always this …” Oh, what was the word? ' _Fanatical?_ '" Nami asked, nervous. 

 

“Most times it’s worse,” Kankuro replied, and with a dark glint in his eye, added, “and now you’ll be joining us. I can’t wait. You’ll be praying for assassins anytime now.” 

 

Nami gulped, watching as Temari ran for it, the zombie-love girls sharp on her tail. 

 

Eventually, the time came to serve, and the cooks got to work. Nami ate with the remaining servants and was loving it — when not slaving over their thoughts of their Kazekage, most of them turned out to be quite nice, though Nami decided, for her own safety, to leave out the whole ‘I’ll be personally guarding the Kazekage’ part of her reasons for coming to Suna, but shared other things. It looked like she was right; the servants really wanted to know what Konoha was like, many dreaming of leaving Suna for their preference of its sunny, bustling counterpart in Konoha.

 

Nami wanted to reaffirm them that Suna was just as lovely, and it was, but her words were bitten back as a sandstorm caught on outside, causing the wind to whip and slash the exterior of the Kazekage building. 

 

She tried to extend her time in the dining room, with its gossip and frivolity and its immense walls and ceiling, but she couldn’t; Kankuro and Temari had alerted her; it was time. 

 

When they came to the council’s meeting, Nami’s first attention went to the statues that hovered above; a nice touch, in her opinion. Four previous Kazekage’s stood tall in stone, and beneath it was the council’s table, oval, with twelve members, and at the center of them all, the Kazekage. 

 

Sabaku no Gaara was dressed in his Kazekage garbs, white and green, and the infamous Kage hat, shadowing his face and along with it, all detection of emotion and expression. 

 

But Nami could feel his eyes on her as she approached. Kankuro and Temari left, surely they were forced to, leaving Nami to her own devices. 

 

“Are you the one they call Nami?” asked one council member. 

 

“Yes, sir,” Nami said, bowing automatically; robotic. She was glad that her years with Naruto hadn’t stifled her tendency toward showing respect. Naruto was so lax when it came to that kind of stuff, and she couldn’t blame him, but even so … 

 

“I am Baki,”

 

Nami’s eyes opened wide, looking up. 

 

_ I remember you! _ sounded dumb to say, so Nami kept quiet as Baki rose from his chair, but that’s what she wanted to say most of all. His turban-like headgear made him no less recognizable, and even did the opposite for him. Along with the two scarlet markings on the side of his face, it made his possession as a senior less cookie-cutter. 

 

“I’m sure Kankuro and Temari informed you of what to expect,” said Baki. 

 

“Yes,” Nami replied, bowing again just to be safe. “They did, Baki-sama.” 

 

“Then we will begin with taijutsu, the most simple.” 

 

Nami straightened herself as Baki seated himself again, and waited. 

 

And waited … 

 

And waited … 

 

And then there was no more time for waiting; the presence behind Nami made a swing at her head, kunai in hand, and Nami ducked quickly, moving to balance on her hand, she kicked the attacker away with both feet, and he landed far from her with a grunt. 

 

A second appeared from behind as well, gripping her arm. Nami pounded her foot on the dropped kunai, and it came to her hand. She forced out of the grip and slipped under the second attacker’s legs, coming up from behind and forcing the kunai to his neck. 

 

He poofed away, and from out of nowhere a cloud appeared over her head, and a series of attackers came at her. 

 

From somewhere Nami could not see, a rope of chains came at her. She jumped, dodging them. A kick, a dodge, a swung fist, a dodge. Someone slid on the floor to steal her balance away from her, but Nami back flipped, flipping in a sick twirl to land a face-kick on a faceless attacker. 

 

Seconds passed, and the enemies blended together. Just a blur of attempted grabs and kicks and jabs and punches, and Nami swiftly evaded. Kunai in hand, she swiped it across a leg in mid flip, threw it to pierce an attacker’s hand, holding it to the wall behind him. 

 

He grunted, and Nami moved fast to collect it, the kunai soon replaced by her foot on his chest, forcing him to remain where he stood. She pointed it at all her potential attackers, and they froze, eyes wide. 

 

“All right, enough,” said Baki. 

 

Nami let her leg come back to her side slowly, rising herself to a stand. Her heart was racing; it was a thrill, fighting so many, and winning over them, too. But fighting hand-in-hand was a skill she had required even before the time came where she decided to become a shinobi. 

 

“Ninjutsu now, come on,” said Baki, voice sounding faraway. 

 

Nami closed her eyes as the attackers vanished in a series of clouds, and reappeared, ready to charge at her. 

 

Nami licked her lips. Ninja art, she said to herself — 

 

A clenched fist, ready to connect to flesh — 

 

_ Taimurapusu _

 

… 

 

… 

 

Nothing. 

 

Nami opened her eyes, knowing she had succeeded. 

 

She turned slightly, only to see the hairy knuckles of an attacker, ready to connect to her face. 

 

“I’m glad I’m still un-punched,” Nami grinned, and came from out of the fist’s direction. She knew it could no longer attempt to hurt her in the least, but being under it was strange. Creepy, even. 

 

“And now, for my next trick,” Nami announced, hands up in the air as though performing for an audience, “I shall speed up time. Let’s see what it does to you!”

 

Nami made a series of hand signs, and knelt. 

 

“Ninja art: Jikan Doren!”

 

Nami grunted as ninjutsu took effect around her, time itself seeming to sink and dissolve, twisting and warping like a towel full of liquid. Nami held herself, concentrating on the attackers before her; there was no room for mistake, no time for playfulness like before. 

 

She had to be very, very careful. 

 

And, just before it became harmful for both Nami and her attackers, Nami released the jutsu, her hands coming away from time’s neck, allowing it to breathe again. 

 

The attackers jerked to life, only to sink with exhaustion. 

 

“Why … what happened …” 

 

They looked to Nami, expecting answers, but she only smiled. 

 

She was happy it had worked, and happy they only became fatigued as a result; she had not wanted to seriously hurt them, not in the slightest. 

 

The attacker with the fist had long since dropped his arm, and fell to his knees with sinking eyes. 

 

“Uh,” Nami said, and turned to the council’s desk. They’re expressions were of confusion, some impressed, some … perturbed, like they knew they had seen something to possibly be afraid of, but had no way of proving it; they didn’t. The ninjutsu Nami dealt in left no room for spectators. “Perhaps some medics would be in order! These guys look a tad sick!” 

 

Not long after that, a group of meds came to collect the ninja. Nami had waited with them, holding on to the fisted one as he collapsed, nearly hitting the floor face-first. 

 

As Nami watched them go on stretchers, a council member asked. “What exactly did you do to them?” 

 

With a “hm”, Nami turned. “Do you truly want to know?” then she pressed a finger to her lips, hush-hush like, and said, “Because I think it’d be better if less people knew the possibilities.” 

 

Silence. What was that supposed to mean? Nami removed her finger, suddenly worried; had she been too playful? Did her sentence come off more unsavory than satisfying and assuring? They didn’t think she was a threat now, did she? A snake? Another slippery associate intending on harm?

 

“I accept her.” 

 

No one spoke, only turned to the person whom had spoken, because he was the only person that truly mattered here. 

 

Gaara. 

 

Nami watched, somewhat fascinated, as he removed his kazekage hat. A bush of red hair was revealed, uncombed and unruly, just as Nami had remembered it. 

 

“Come again, Gaara?” said Baki. “I didn’t quite … did you say you —” 

 

“I accept her as my guard.” Gaara repeated. 

 

Nami tilted her head, still engrossed by the Kazekage. She wasn’t sure what had captivated her so much — his words, his voice, or seeing him again, after all this time. Perhaps it was a combination of all three, a recipe come to life via it’s ingredients, that made her feel the way she did.

 

“She has not done any genjutsu yet, my lord —”

 

“I don’t need to see,” said Gaara. “I’ve seen enough.”

 

Baki nodded hesitantly, and then straightened. “Very well. Nami of the Leaves, will be the Kazekage’s new guard.”

 

Nami hardly heard him as Gaara made eye contact with her, turquoise orbs following her own forest green ones.

 

It was … nice. To see him again. 

 

Even nicer that he wanted her. Though Nami wasn’t sure why. 

***

 

… But what did one even speak to the Kazekage about? 

 

Nami and Gaara walked back to the quarters alone, side-by-side, crickets their music. 

 

“Thank you,” Nami said simply, arriving at her door. Now her official bedroom, she placed a hand on the knob and waited as Gaara stopped at her words. 

 

He turned to look at her. Since, he had placed his hat back on, his face obscured, that shielding aided by the night. 

 

“For choosing me, I mean,” Nami clarified, hand twisting the knob, but she didn’t apply pressure, waiting for Gaara to respond. 

 

It was a normal thing, wasn’t it? To talk to him? Being a personal guard — they’d have to speak often, wouldn’t they? In order for her to fulfill all his needs, he’d need to be vocal with her, didn’t he?

 

… eventually? 

 

“I mean, I know you could’ve chosen anyone else,” Nami went on, twisting the knob again, back and forth. “Of course, the sand ninja seem as loyal and as dedicated as the leaf, maybe even more so, huh? I’m sure living, protecting, even dying for their Kazekage would be considered highest of all honors, and would be pursued all the time. And here I am, leaf shinobi, taking the spotlight. Or perhaps you think different?” 

 

Gaara only stared on. Stock still. 

 

“The people of Suna seem like wonderful people to govern over, I’m sure you’d have it no other way,” Nami continued, a brightness to her tone now. “Although, I would try and steer clear of the servants — there’s this one girl that asked Temari what you smelled like, and then she asked where you keep that Kazekage robe you’re wearing right now. And I don’t know, I really believe she means business with you. Short green hair, _really_ big eyes, looks like she might set you on fire any moment. I’m sure you’ll recognize her right away.” 

 

Still, no reply from Gaara. Finally, after seconds of silence, almost as though waiting to make sure Nami had nothing further to add, he turned and began to walk away. 

 

“Thank you for your input,” he said, before entering his office, closing the door, and leaving Nami to herself in the hallway. 

 

Nami breathed a sigh of relief, finally entering her room as well. 

 

Well … that was a start, now, wasn’t it? 


	3. Bittersweet Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nami replaced the guard at the window, fully aware of the fact that now it could be her back that would be assaulted with weapons.
> 
> And, in the light of Gaara’s apology, she wasn’t sure if she minded taking a shuriken in the back for him.

… How did Shizune do it?

 

Nami wished, now, legs crossed and heat bearing down her neck, that she had consulted with the Hokage’s assistant and closest associate before taking this “mission”, if it could even jokingly be called that.

 

Although, Nami was sure Shizune was one of those ‘love work’ types, as she always could be seen berating Tsunade-sama for not loving it enough.

 

As though anyone ever could; a Kage’s job, for the most part, was paperwork. Settling agreements, treaties, abating and easing tensions. Signing, complying, denying. Paper, paper, _paper, god help her if she saw **one more piece of paper** _ —

 

Gaara reached into a drawer, and brought forth yet another piece of … you know what, picking up his pen and beginning to scribble in where his contribution was due.

 

… _trees had died for this. Trees. Baby trees, adult ones, that could still be fucking frolicking right now._

 

Gaara rose his head, and gestured to a set of drawers on Nami’s left.

 

Nami glared. “So now I’m the maid, too?”

 

Gaara blinked, eyes narrowing slightly.

 

Nami sighed, rising from her chair. She passed a window, one out of many, and wished she could squeeze herself out from it, jump to her death, and land flat on the sandy floor below. Nami could almost imagine it; passerby gasping, years later her suicide born out of mind-numbing boredom known widely as the “Bored Blond Incident.”

 

But, alas, the windows were far too small for her build. She was many things, but petite was not one of them, and so Nami passed it to open the drawer of Gaara’s desire, and pulling out the (oh, **_god,_ ** it was a folder this time, ugh, how many more hours was that?) series of paperwork and bringing them over to him.

 

Her thrilling mission over, Nami made her way to her chair, when an idea hit her. Oh, Shikamaru would be proud. This as the type of boredom that was almost, the kind that only existed in the sickest and most twisted of children’s horror stories. She could almost imagine using this event to scare the living pants off of her impassive superior.

 

“And then …” Nami heard herself saying in her mind’s eye, “I went to the drawer … and there was MORE PAPERWORK! MWAHAHA! Goodnight, sweet dreams~”

 

Nami smirked, coming over to Gaara’s side, hovering before pressing against his chair and kneeling to take a closer look at his work.

 

_Do you, Lord Kazekage, accept the terms to allow the Kaemon Bridge to remain open for any necessary use, despite the dangers it could pose on the village of Suna —?_

 

Nami’s eyes traveled when she heard Gaara give a unhappy grunt, obviously brought on by her sudden proximity.

 

“Something the matter?” said Nami.

 

Gaara leaned away ever so slightly, probably hoping Nami would see the problem and correct it. But her only movement were her lips, forming a smile.

 

“Oh, am I not close enough?” Nami teased, leaning farther in, her chest squishing into the sleeve of Gaara’s arm. “Is this better, Kazekage-sama?”

 

Gaara grunted again, and with his hand tried to push her away.

 

Nami giggled and dodged his hand and pressed further into his space, until her cheek was nearly against his own.

 

And then his next move surprised her: he shoved his hand into Nami’s cheek to push her away, and the force was enough to send her to the floor, laughing bursting from her like water from a dam.

 

At the crash, there were footsteps, and then the door opened with Kankuro and Temari coming through, frantic and wide-eyed.

 

“What’s wrong?” Temari said. “What happened?”

 

Nami struggled to collect herself off the floor, suppressing the remainder of her giggles.

 

“Oh, no,” she said, straightening out her clothing. “I was just insisting to our Kazekage-sama that I take my break. He’s taken _such_ a liking to me. Please, my lord, may I be pardoned?”

 

Gaara made a grunt that obviously was her signal to leave, and Nami did, squeezing past Temari and Kankuro out into the hallway, where she released her final bouts of laughter.

 

***

 

Nami had not thought it could get any hotter, but the moment she stepped into the Dining Hall, she realized how foolish that assumption was.

 

The hall was thick with people, Nami could hear the faint click-clank of dishes and plates, and the thick of people made the atmosphere even stickier. The tables on the outer courts were being assaulted by beams of sunlight, and to touch the wood was to burn.

 

The ramen reminded Nami tearfully of Naruto, and how he used to love to drink the broth, finishing with a smile on his face, so she abandoned it and the hall in favor of exploring the village.

 

It had been a long time since she’d been in the village, let alone Suna. Since Gaara’s crisis with the Akatsuki. Nami and Gaara had gotten on well then, in a distant way, like sisters and their brothers’ friends often do. He had even smiled at her as much as Naruto when the deed was done and it was time to return to Konoha.

 

At the memory of Gaara’s gratuitous smile, Nami felt a thrum of guilt, like but there; she didn’t have to torment him. But her job was supposed to be protecting him, not sitting in a chair. Hadn’t they seen her records? She had no problem with doing an onerous job, but she couldn’t stand being _bored,_ stagnant.

 

At the final step of the mansion, Nami turned her head at the sound of a whine.

 

The floor of the mansion was littered with girls, bodyguards repelling them from the building. Many were craning their necks and shouting Gaara’s name. Nami followed their gazes up to the window that, only a half hour ago, she had imagined throwing herself out of. The shut window.

 

Secondhand embarrassment came over her as one of the girls tripped and her Gaara sign (accompanied with a crude drawing of him with his Kazekage garb and hat) slipped from her grasp. Nami slid away, hoping she hadn’t been seen.

 

The winds were beginning to pick up in the streets, but Nami paid no mind to them, surveying the lanes, the shops, and the buildings, trying to clear her head.

 

There had been another reason why she had agreed to this.

 

Scrolls.

 

Scrolls that weren’t found willy-nilly. Scrolls that were even truly on the map, or sold anywhere Nami could get to. Scrolls that were so obscured due to the Art that they were dedicated to. Almost nullified everywhere.

 

Time Scrolls.

 

In all of Nami’s life, she had only found one. One. Out of rumored six in the world. And Nami had hoped to find some trace of information here in Suna, where at least some susurration of the scrolls had to exist.

 

And then, Nami realized, with a smack to the forehead, how much of a fool she had been.

 

Where else would the information be but the Kazekage Mansion Library? Where all the most precious files were kept.

 

Even her own.

 

***

 

“Oh, good, you’re back.”

 

After her break had ended, Nami had dutifully returned to Gaara’s office, where Temari and Kankuro stood, waiting.

 

Temari had been the one to speak. Her foot tapped against the ground, arms crossed, chewing the inside of her cheek.

 

Displeased, Nami gathered.

 

“Don’t you have something to say?”

 

Nami noticed a replacement guard in Nami’s place, standing stock still by the window. Ready to, hypothetically speaking, be the blockade between Gaara and a speeding shuriken or blast, should it occur.

 

Nami closed her eyes and made a steady bow. “Kazekage-sama, I apologize for my rudeness this morning.”

 

“The two of you are supposed to at least be trying to get along, come on!” Temari complained, slamming a hand down on Gaara’s desk, to which Gaara himself made no hint of shock to. “You’re supposed to be guarding his life and you haven’t said two words to each other!”

 

“I know, it’s very unbecoming —” _He started it, though,_ “— and I apologize that things haven’t been going quite well.”

 

Temari frowned. There was only so much fussing she could do in the face of Nami’s apologies. Finally, she let out a breath, closing her eyes.

 

“I just don’t think —”

 

“I also apologize.”

 

Silence.

 

Nami rose her head; Kankuro lifted his eyebrows with a “hm?”; Temari’s mouth came unlatched. Even the still guard moved his head an inch.

 

Gaara had spoken that apology, and had gotten everyone’s attention.

 

“Gaara,” Temari said, astounded.

 

But Gaara was staring at Nami, still leaned over in a bow. He set down his pen and said, “Rise.”

 

Nami did, if anything out of pure shock.

 

“I understand that the situation is not ideal for either of us,” he said. “Temari has shown me your records and I now know that you are used to being out in the field, working, crafting strategies, instead of docilely waiting for something to go wrong. I apologize that you cannot be provided more stimulation.”

 

Now it was Nami’s turn for her lips to come apart. She blinked — furiously. She had never, in a thousand eons, expected an apology to be given to her, and even more eons expected Gaara to _understand_ her frustration. Of course, there was a worry that it was a joke, sarcasm at her expense, but Nami was very sure Gaara simply wasn’t the type to spend time on anything of the sort. He seldom spoke a word, after all, and sarcasm took work. More than she thought he would be interested in.

 

Suddenly, the light guilt she had felt earlier weighed her down with its growth. She’d been such a brat! She had gotten in the way of the Kazekage’s work! And now look!

 

Nami realized there was only so long a time she could just stand there, mute. The others were looking at her now, waiting for a response.

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Nami said softly, still recovering from her incredulity. “I — I will try and handle myself with more poise in the future.”

 

“I’m sure you will,” Gaara said, and with that, gathered up his pen again and returned to his work.

 

After that, Temari and Kankuro excused themselves, still sharing glances between one another.

 

Nami replaced the guard at the window, fully aware of the fact that now it could be her back that would be assaulted with weapons.

 

And, in the light of Gaara’s apology, she wasn’t sure if she minded taking a shuriken in the back for him.

 

***

 

Only later that night, when Nami was relieved once again from her duties for bed, did she sneak away to the mansion’s archive.

 

It wasn’t far, thank Hashirama, and Nami didn’t have to waste too much time finding it.

 

She wasn’t sure if she was permitted inside, or, at least, without Gaara near, but she was willing to take the chance as she stepped inside. It was all high, beige shelves circling around a wide, round table.

 

The idea of finding her own file was interesting to her — it would have been transferred from Konoha to Suna in order to be taken a look at whenever — but Nami shook away the thought. She was here for the scrolls.

 

With eager fingers, Nami glided down the shelves, eyes darting from spine to spine, searching.

 

It was so _dark._ With irritation, Nami did a couple of hand signs and there in her palm came alive a sphere of light. She held it close to the shelves. Documents on scrolls now … Nami could nearly taste her target now, hope glowing even brighter than the round orb she held up.

 

And then she saw it:

 

Forbidden Scrolls: A-Z.

 

If she would find it anywhere, it would be in here. Or at least it was a lead! Nami made way to grab it — when she felt a presence.

 

She wanted to yell, to scream _go away_ until her throat stripped, but she didn’t. Knowing it would look entirely too suspicious, she didn’t hide, fought the urge to do so, but she stayed where she was, rooted on the spot, her light guiding whatever newcomer present to where she was.

 

Finally, in her peripheral vision, a figure appeared at end of the shelves, and Nami’s nerves lessened. She knew who it was.

 

“You know,” Kankuro said, “back in Gaara’s serial-killer days, he would wonder off like this, too, and I’d have to be the one to go and fetch him.”

 

Nami turned to him and saw he was throwing up an apple, catching it, turning it around and then throwing it in the air again. He carried a soft smirk on his face, the bluish light from Nami’s orb highlighting the remaining purple paint on his face.

 

“I used to hate it, for obvious reasons,” he said. “But it had to be done, lest he get into real trouble. So … what are you doing, Nami?”

 

Would it be safe to say? Nami wasted no time — each second kept quiet was a second earning more suspicion. “I was looking for my file,” she said.

 

Kankuro rose his eyebrows. “Your file?”

 

“Yes,” Nami said. “I was just curious as to what it’s said, and I haven’t seen it in ages. You Sand ninja have a different system than we do in the Leaf.”

 

“Yeah, well, we’re not like you guys,” Kankuro said. “We like everything to be a little bit of a challenge.”

 

“Noted.” Nami said.

 

“Third shelf on the right side,” Kankuro said, taking a bite of his apple. “Should find it there. I actually suggested to Temari we keep your file where we can get to it quick, so it’s actually a good idea you’re going to fish it out. How about you hand it to me, you know, once you’re done looking over the updates?”

 

“Of course,” Nami said, and began to head to the shelf, happy to be out of Kankuro’s direct line of vision.

 

Neither of them said anything until Nami pulled out her file. It carried the Leaf emblem on it, and the red of the ink was a striking contrast against the blue of the moonlight.

 

“Hey,” Kankuro’s voice was soft, and footsteps — _oh, **gods** , not more footsteps_ — began to sound. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

 

Nami shivered. “I wouldn’t think of it. Why would I lie?”

 

“Wouldn’t I like to know. Kind of a suspicious time to go looking through stuff in the archive, isn’t it?”

 

It was. Nami couldn’t fight that. “I thought it would the idea time to not be disturbed,” she said.

 

“Good point,” Kankuro said, when Nami heard a door creak, she let a soft breath. “Remember what I said about the file. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Goodnight, Kankuro-san.”

 

Through a crack in the shelf, Nami saw Kankuro exit, and she closed her eyes in relief.

 

Tucking her file under her bed, Nami headed for the door as well. It wouldn’t be safe, now, to go after the scroll directory. That meant more waiting, but Nami was okay with it; she knew where it was now.

 

When she got to her bedroom door, she looked to Gaara’s door, and, with a thought that surprised her, she wished she had said goodnight to him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I'm done with these chapters; they've given me such a headache! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed them, though! A slow but steady build up to more~


	4. Disturbed Days

The color of the tea cups Nami balanced on the tray reminded her of the files in the archive — it was evening, next day, and she had still not gone back to fetch the scroll directory.

 

It would just look too _suspicious_ now; she was only somewhat sure she had fooled Kankuro into believing she was there to look at her file, and only that. But, then again, what was the problem? If she wanted to look at the scroll directory, why would that be a bad thing? If she twisted it around a little, it would look like she was trying to find new, inventive ways of guarding Gaara. It would look noble, like she was dedicating her down time to protecting Gaara as well — if she was in front of the right people, it might give her more credit …

 

And, on the subject of Gaara …

 

Nami opened the door, tray in the other hand, and eased the tray onto Gaara’s desk.

 

The words came from Baki. “You’re doing well, Kazekage-sama,” he said. Gone were the days of calling him ‘Gaara’ or at least that was what Nami gathered. Though he had been the sand siblings’ sensei for so long. “But I’m afraid of your likability with the older citizens of Suna.”

 

Nami bit back a desire to ask _Why?_ because it wasn’t her duty to speak, or, really, be spoken to. Her mind should be preoccupied with protecting the Kazekage, and if not that, then nothing. But she couldn’t help but wonder …

 

Thankfully, she didn’t have to ask; something in Gaara’s expression prompted Baki to go on.

 

“It’s not mystery that the younger female population has accepted you with open arms,” Baki said. “But there seems to be skepticism about how much you truly care about Sunagakure.”

 

“How so?” Gaara asked.

 

“Lack of interaction, my lord,” Baki replied, beginning to pace. “Though we understand your more … reserved behavior is nothing to fret about it, apparently is making some a little nervous. They don’t feel like they know you, my lord.”

 

 _Ah, good point,_ Nami thought. She could completely see how that would pose a problem. If Gaara held any other position, it would be no problem, but the Kazekage was more than a title, a figurehead. He was a leader. Nami began to think of Tsunade-sama, and how she was constantly seen at events, at the center of problems. How — though reluctant at times — _present_ she was. Now, it was hard to think of Konoha without imaging her along with it. Strong, fiery, passionate. Will of fire.

 

But what of Suna? The country still clung to Gaara’s father as its icon.

 

“What can be done?” Gaara asked now, reaching for his cup of tea.

 

“Perhaps more interaction with your people,” Baki answered. His eyes met Nami’s and then skimmed over them like she was furniture. “I have to say, though I presented you with this problem, I’m not entirely sure how to go about it myself. Just something to chew on in the meantime.”

 

Gaara nodded.

 

“Excuse me, Kazekage-sama,” said Baki, and disappeared.

 

Nami took the opportunity to reach for her own cup of tea and make it over to her seat — her brand new seat. Imagine her surprise, that morning, when she had come in and seen that her old, rickety chair was gone and had been replaced with a softer seat. Gaara had said nothing, and some more warmth for him had grown.

 

 _He had noticed,_ she had thought. How much else did he notice?

 

“Any suggestions?”

 

Now, Nami turned her head at the sound of Gaara’s voice.

 

“What?” she said softly.

 

“The problem that Baki presented to me,” Gaara clarified. “Do you have any ideas as to how to remedy it?”

 

Nami blinked. He had not ceased to surprise her; he was asking her on her opinion, what she thought would be the best course of action.

 

She felt so validated, especially after the glazed look given to her by Baki. And it took her a second or two to speak.

 

“Well,” she said, her voice a little rusted. She cupped her tea as the gears of her brain began to go to work against the shock. “Perhaps … a … festival?”

 

Gaara’s eyebrows were unseen, but Nami was sure they were rising in intrigue. “Festival?”

 

“Dark times, and it could boost morale and … I might be overstepping my bounds,” Nami added, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable — how much would be too much? “But I believe the people of Suna still think of your father when they hear the word _Kazekage_ , and that’s not good. Perhaps a festival, where you were present and willing to answer questions, would help them think a little warmer of you.”

 

Gaara’s stare was penetrative, his pupiless eyes on Nami. Until, finally. “I think that would be a good idea.”

 

Nami’s eyes lit. “Really?”

 

“Yes.” Gaara said. “I will speak about it to the elders when I am able. Thank you, Nami.”

 

She was sure that that was the first time he had said her name. She smiled, and settled back into place, sipping a bit of tea that further coaxed her good vibe.

 

The only thought she hadn’t mentioned was how, at a festival, especially a large one, Gaara would need to be under more protection. So many things could go wrong …

 

But it was for a good cause, and it sent a good message.

 

 _Just have to show them what I’m made of, then,_ Nami thought.

 

***

 

Break. Nami was ready to be alone with her thoughts for a while, so she exited Gaara’s office in favor of her own bedroom beside his —

 

And realized that whole alone-with-thoughts thing wasn’t going to happen.

 

Kankuro was sitting on her bed, waiting for her.

 

Nami’s pulse quickened and she tried to conceal it, walking in leisurely and shutting the door. “I’m sorry, Gaara’s office is the other door, but I’m flattered by the confusion.”

 

“So …” he said, tapping a finger on her bedspread. “You know the thing about guards? You have to trust them — which means they have a tendency to not lie about things. Guess where you went wrong?”

 

“What makes you think I lied?”

 

Kankuro reached behind him and what he pulled forth made Nami sigh in her defeat — the scroll directory.

 

“Wanna explain this?” Kankuro said.

 

Nami loosened herself, the relaxing that came after a lie had been exposed. “Fine, I was after that. You win.”

 

“Why?” Kankuro asked, and when Nami tried to give one last moment of hesitance he said, “I’m not upset, and we don’t have to tell my four pig-tailed sister about this, you know the one? Much better at this whole fussing thing than I am. But since we put our brother’s life in your hands, the least you could do is pin for some honesty. So how ‘bout it?”

 

Nami lowered her gaze. “I wanted to see if Suna’s archive had anything on Time Scrolls.”

 

“Time scrolls?” Kankuro repeated with a blink.

 

Not a good sign that he doesn’t know, Nami thought, a little of her hope deflating.

 

She explained to Kankuro, going into the lost art of Time Scrolls, Time Ninjutsu, and how very important to her it was to find the scrolls and learn from them.

 

“Rare scrolls …” Kankuro said. “I don’t know if you’ll find anything about something like them in here, it’s —”

 

“Please,” Nami said, stretching out her hand. “Just let me see. Maybe there’ll be something that will lead me somewhere, if not here.”

 

Kankuro sighed and handed the directory over, and Nami took a seat beside him, flipping through, eyes darting across black inked pages.

 

Moments later, Nami’s shoulders lowered, and she dropped the directory on the bed.

 

“See?” said Kankuro, as though he felt sorry for her. “I told you.”

 

“And now I know for myself,” Nami replied, just as gravely. She came to sit beside Kankuro, who scooted to the side to admit her. “Maybe I should stop looking; they’re practically myths, and those who chase myths mindlessly become myths themselves.”

 

“Who said that?” Kankuro asked.

 

“Me,” said Nami.

 

***

 

“I have given thought to Baki’s warning,” said Gaara, conviction in his voice, always. “And thanks to a suggestion given to me by my right-hand, I have decided that the Sunagakure has earned some festive time.”

 

The elders were quiet for a second.

 

“I am … not understanding you, Kazekage-sama,” said one of the advisers, a turban concealing a confused expression that Nami knew was there.

 

“A festival,” Gaara specified. “It should be held in two weeks time, in order to give us time to prepare.”

 

“A — a festival?” said another adviser across from where Gaara sat. “And just who is this right-hand you spoke of, Kazekage-sama? Surely they know that this is stressful times for the village, a festival would —”

 

“Boost morale and offer me an opportunity to present myself to my village,” Gaara interrupted. “I am not ignorant; security will be tight, and should anything go wrong, I will personally handle it; it will give me a chance to demonstrate my strength and dedication for the village.”

 

 _He’s thinking like a politician,_ Nami thought, feeling a tad proud.

 

“There are risks, but there are also more pros than cons,” continued Gaara. Attention was rapt on him as tipped the Kazekage hat down to shadow his face. “The villagers do not have me in their recent memory … not as I wish them to, and I strive to change this. Please assist me.”

 

More silence, but it was borne out of consideration instead of confusion as it had been before.

 

Nami was happy he hadn’t said her name, or made it blatantly obvious that she had given the suggestion. It kept her anonymous, and it also helped that he had said right-hand, and she was on his left; a small detail, but her presence during this meeting was still suspicious; normally she would be on the outside, carefully guarding the doors from undesired persons.

 

Or maybe she was over-thinking this.

 

“We will … consider this in great deal, Kazekage-sama,” said one of the seniors, the oldest out of the group, sitting across from Gaara. “We will offer you our answer tonight, is that accepted?”

 

“Very much so,” said Gaara, standing. “We will leave.”

 

Nami stepped away to give him space, but she went first; fulfilling more of her duties.

 

***

 

“Oh … _look._ ”

 

Nami raised her head from her tea, the steam catching on her chin as she turned her head to the direction Temari glance was place. Just then, three men came in through the flap that operated as a front door. The man at the center Nami gathered to be the leader had his hands in his pockets, his lips curved in a sweet, seductive smile as he swept the bar. His other two were well-toned and about their age or a second older; even from here, Nami detected a lean pectoral from the unbuttoned shirt on them was wearing.

 

Delicious, in other words.

 

“I wish I had time to date,” Temari whined, pouting at the men as they set their sights on the women at the front of the bar. “Being a part of my brother’s cabinet makes it so hard to do anything for myself.”

 

“Wanna switch places?” Nami quipped with a soft laugh. Though … even if she were not a part of the Kazekage’s guard, she still wouldn’t have any time for anything fun.

 

The scrolls … Nami took another sip of tea to drown the second wave of disappointment.

 

Temari made a disgusted noise. “No. Keep him.”

 

She kept ogling the men, and a thought occurred to Nami.

 

“What about Shikamaru?” she said.

 

“Huh?” Temari said, turning to her. Her eyes went a little wider, and she straightened against the bar sofa. “Oh … oh no. I don’t …”

 

Nami kept on smiling.

 

Temari recovered faster than Nami anticipated. “And what about you? Got a guy at back in the Leaf Village?”

 

Nami shook her head. “Not unless the one we’re counting is blond, has an affinity for jumpsuits and has no indoor voice.”

 

…

 

“I’m not dating my adoptive brother, Temari.”

 

Temari chuckled. “I know, I know, I was just teasing.”

 

Nami chuckled along — until something inside her went off. She straightened immediately, eyes surveying the bar.

 

Temari perked as well. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

“I felt something,” Nami said, tensing her body to sprint. “Didn’t you?”

 

“Now that you mention it …”

 

Nami didn’t wait for her to finish; she slid out of the booth and began to examine. She heard Temari get up and do the same seconds later, covering the opposite side of the place.

 

Nami reached for a kunai. Never would a day go by that she wouldn’t be grateful of her shinobi senses, senses of which she had not been trained in but had been taught on the streets. A particularly good skill when you were a street rat amongst other street rats, some more trustworthy than others. Throw in the stingy, sneaky, older villagers that would wait for you to fall asleep and make their move — in whatever way they had intended — and Nami wondered if she should have been more holy back then and prayed to the gods in thanks.

 

She watched Temari leave the bar to look outside, sending her extended guards to watch as well. Nami turned back, relaxing only slightly —

 

And then she tensed again when she detected movement in her peripheral. Something had moved into the shadows at the last booth at the very back of the bar.

 

Nami fast-traveled there, kunai brandished. She saw nothing. The light dangled over the table, protected by its angular shade. Nami’s eyes flickered to the cushions of the seats.

 

They were flattened; someone had been sitting there.

 

Seconds later, Nami met Temari outside.

 

“Anything?” she asked.

 

“Most definitely something,” Nami said, pocketing her kunai. “Someone was watching us.”

 

“We’ve gotten too lax,” said Temari, walking side by side with Nami. She gestured to her fellow guards to come along, and they began walking in a tight pack.

 

Raucous laughter as someone tumbled out of another nearby bar, and Nami rolled her eyes as she swiveled to avoid colliding with them.

 

“Something in our drinks?” Temari wondered.

 

“No,” Nami replied. “We weren’t given anything.”

 

“We definitely should have been given something; we look great tonight.”

 

Nami allowed a smile to creep against her lips. They did.

 

And though they didn’t know why or who, someone else had made that observation as well.

 

***

 

“It would have made more sense if we had you along, Kazekage-sama,” said Nami. “It would make sense if someone was tailing you, why us?”

 

Gaara “hmmed,” his attention divided between his work and their conversation. “I’m glad you caught it. I’m sure you would have protected the citizens in that bar.”

 

Nami was pacing; she wasn’t thinking about the citizens right now — it was always about those citizens. The shadow she had caught continued to tickle the back of her mind and she didn’t have the ability to relax and slap its hand away. “If they had wanted to see how capable I was, they could have seen me at the training grounds any time of the day … why a bar?”

 

Nami’s brain was reeling so fast she did not hear Gaara leave his chair and come to her. His hand fell on her shoulder. “Leave it. More answers will come.”

 

She looked back at him, amazed. “Aren’t you worried for yourself?”

 

“I trust you.”

 

Nami felt a warmth spread through her, and before she could examine it, Gaara went on with:

 

“And, good news: the elders have accepted our proposal for a festival.”

 

Nami lit up. “Really? That’s great! Wha — When will we have it?”

 

“In two weeks,” Gaara replied. “More than enough time to prepare.”

 

“This is fantastic,” Nami said softly, lowering her gaze. She was not able to shake her lingering feelings of ick — that something was lurking, that she should not have suggested this. She fought it, and smiled regardless. “What is my role?”

 

And, to her further astonishment, a small, cousin of a smile on Gaara’s face. “To make me look more presentable to my people.”

 

It took her a while to notice that his hand hadn’t left her shoulder.

 

***

 

T _o Tenshi and Akito:_

_Sorry I haven’t sent anything since I arrived at Sunagakure; it’s been surreal._

_Suna will be throwing a festival in honor of Gaara’s recovery and status as Kazekage, and of course when I say they’ll be throwing a festival it means please come I’m hopeless with these things and I’m sure the two of you would kill me if I let a party slip through your fingers. Tenshi, I don’t think I’ll need a kimono of any kind as I’ll still technically be on duty, but I’m sure you might go to the trouble anyway, so you might as well pick me up a nice little flower to put in my hair so I look at least a little welcoming. Or something._

_… No luck with the scrolls. Tenshi, remember when I told you I wanted to study time ninjutsu and you yelled at me and told me it was dangerous and stupid and tedious? I’m starting to agree on the tedious part. I had hoped that … well, the two of you know what I hoped. I’m not giving up, but it seems like I’ll have to put the search on hold for a while._

_Tell onee-san that I love him, and I’m fine, and … and to relax, okay? He was incredibly tense when I left and I’m sure my absence hasn’t helped._

_Love, Nami._

 

Nami watched a the messenger took off into the sky, and truly wish that she could fast forward in time and see where the next two weeks took her.

 

Knowing that, somewhere, there was knowledge that made such a thing possible made it even harder to sit and wait for them to come to her.


End file.
